


How to Save a life

by SociallyIneptDork



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Angst, Big Brother Mycroft, Hospitalization, Hurt Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft To The Rescue, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, Pre-Canon, Protective Mycroft, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 00:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12947055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SociallyIneptDork/pseuds/SociallyIneptDork
Summary: The first time Sherlock attempts suicide, he learns that there are things that not even his big brother can fix. His brother- a genius, calculated, graceful, elegant man who runs Britain almost all on his own- still has human limits and a human heart and Sherlock had been so sure that Mycroft was omnipotent and immovable that he forgot. It was foolish. But he forgot.As he laid in the hospital room, he thinks about everything that happened.





	How to Save a life

The room was cold as it embraced him, and all Sherlock could do was lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling. The world was spinning and a fragment of him wished for it to spin fast enough to hurl him into the depths of space. Sherlock was alone in the hospital room once again; alone with his thoughts that did a better job of drowning him than the drugs he'd used to pull him under the depths of unconsciousness.

He hadn't calculated the dosage well enough. Mycroft had found him- of _course_ he would be the one to find Sherlock. It would likely take years to get Mycroft's scream out of his head; it was the only time in his life that Sherlock ever saw Mycroft panicking. With trembling hands, he had pulled Sherlock close enough for Sherlock to smell the faint scent of cigarette smoke that clung onto his jacket. Limp and safe in Mycroft's arms, Sherlock hadn't been strong enough to stay awake.

He could only mumble apologies when he woke next, but he could tell that Mycroft hadn't slept, his eyes red-rimmed. They didn't hold any light in them. Not like they did when they were young and Mycroft could easily make all the pain go away.

Sherlock had fucked up.

He'd fucked everything up.

 _Again_.

 


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